First Niece
by TeamGwenee
Summary: Rosamund and Edith over the years. Oneshot
Her second niece. Not a nephew, as had been hoped for, but still a treasure. Rosamund could pin point the exact moment when she fell in love with the squirming, red face baby. She and Marmaduke were up from London and the babies were brought down for their hour after tea. Mary took pride of place on Robert's lap, for all to coo over, and tiny Edith was left to sleep in Nanny's arms. Instinctively, Rosamund reached out and asked to hold her. With no one objecting, she took little Edith and held her against her breast.

Awoken by all the noise and movement, Edith screwed up her face and began to cry. As she built herself up for a good wail, Rosamund did all she could to soothe her. If Edith had continued to make such a racket, she would be taken from Rosamund and sent back to nursery. But, being rocked soothingly by her Aunt Rosamund, the infant's cries subsided. Hiccupping, she opened her eyes and peered up into Rosamund's face. And though she was too young to smile, Rosamund liked to think the baby was smiling on the inside.

She glanced over at the rest of the family, none of whom were looking at Edith now she had stopped crying. She felt herself gently tightening her grip on Edith, holding her protectively against her chest. It was then Rosamund began to wonder if anyone would love her Edith the way she did.

DA

Edith's presentation Ball was perfect except for one thing, Edith. True, she had started the evening radiant and glowing with excitement, and Rosamund beamed with pride at the sight of her. Her duckling had transformed into a swan at last. But then she watched as Edith's mood began to drop and her face took on the sour and bitter expression that had become all to familiar. No one could look beautiful when making such a face.

The cause of that face was the same as usual. Mary. Her eldest niece had taken it upon herself to brighten up a dull evening by indulging herself in her favourite game, baiting Edith. She did this by doing everything in her power to tempt all possible suitors away from her unfortunate sister, and trapping them in her web of admirers. The prize not being a dance with a handsome bachelor or two, but the look of pain in Edith's eyes as she was once more relegated to the shadows. And during her own Ball.

Sybil had, quite without intention and certainly without malice, dominated the rest of the young gentlemen's attention. With two stunning sisters taking up the limelight, it was no wonder Edith was left with the shadows.

Poor Edith. Rosamund knew Edith had dreamt of this night. Had dared to hope that this would be the night when she would be swept away by her very own Prince Charming. But instead she was left partnerless and humiliated. Rosamund moved over to Edith's side and squeezed her hand. Seeing Edith needed more than a hand squeeze, she lead her out into the hall where no one could see. Alone with her Aunt, Edith broke out into heartbroken, dissapointed sobs and all Rosamund could do was hold her close.

Again, she was left with the conclusion no one would love her niece as much as she did.

DA

The General toasted Edith. And Rosamund was glad to be there to watch it happen. The delighted surprise on Edith's face at being recognised for her efforts warmed Rosamund's heart. And saddedned her slightly. Edith should not be so shocked to have people praise her. Few words of pride or encouragement had slipped past her parents' tongue for all the years she was with them. And yet the soldiers were singing of her virtues within days of meeting her. It seemed a pity they should get to know her better than her own family.

Although not as much as Rosamund. And no one was prouder of Edith than Rosamund was that day.

DA

Rosamund had been rather disappointed to find she would be unable to be back to England in time for Mary's wedding, but conceded it would be no big loss. She would have liked to have been there, but Mary would no doubt have a plentiful supply of supporters and well-wishers.

When she discovered that she would be missing Edith's wedding on the other hand, she was filled with dismay. To miss out on seeing her little niece married was a great shame and she was left wretched at the thought of Edith walking down that aisle, no doubting glowing with happiness in her stunning gown, without her there to watch.

Of course, she was even more devastated to hear the Sir Anthony had left her girl at the altar. Rosamund's lips thinned and a wave of anger surged within her. Well, it was probably for the best. That doddery old fool wouldn't have been able to love Edith she much as she deserved anyway!

DA

Marigold was a beautiful child. The very image of Edith when she was young. Rosamund could not help smiling as she watched the little lamb happily play on Edith's lap, finally at home with her mother.

It was a funny thing that so much suffering, and so much joy, could be cause by this tot who was currently chewing on her toy bear, drooling nonchalantly. Little Marigold gurgled happily as Edith bounced her on her knee, causing Edith to light up in delight. This in turn brought a smile to Rosamund's face as well. She knew that look on Edith's face all too well.

Edith may not have found someone who loved her as much as Rosamund, but she had found someone to love as much.

DA

She managed to remain calm. Using all her strength and willpower, Rosamund held back the growing urge within her to storm up to Mary and slap her lights out. Instead she remained outwardly calm and poised, only allowing herself to watch Mary with a cold, yet fiery look on her face.

Mary caught the look of tranquil fury in Aunt Rosamund's eyes and had to stop herself from recoiling at the pure malevolence in it. Instead she returned Rosamund's stare with an equally cold and disdainful look.

And then, looking into Mary's dark, remorseless eyes, Rosamund finally acknowledged what she had always known but had never admitted to herself. She could never love Mary the way she did Edith.

DA

Rosamund thanked God that she could make it to this one of Edith's wedding. Everything was practically picturesque. Snow dusted the ground and the sun shone in the sky so everything was light and white and sparkling. Perfect for a wedding.

Both the Church and the Great Hall were decorated magnificently with lush, bright red and white roses. The guests were all dressed in their best and villagers turned out in near hundreds, some coming from other villages, just to wave the Bride to the Church. After all, it was practically a fairy-tale come to life.

The flower girls and ring bearer all brought adoring awws and smiles from the guests, and the young bridesmaids were all complimented on their pretty dresses. But it was the Bride who drew all eyes, naturally.

Edith looked even more radiant than on her Coming out Ball, although this time with no one daring or even capable of stealing away attention. She shone like a ray of sunlight, brightening up the world with her pure joy. So different from Mary, who had to not only stand out but smother everyone else's light. Rather like an eclipse. It was an apt description, Rosamund thought. Blotting out the sun and the centre of the stars. Truly beautiful. But the sun always re-emerged. And it would last far longer than the moon was capable of seeing. The sun would always win.

And Edith had certainly won today. Or maybe even before today. The victory had been Edith's the moment she chose to return for Mary's wedding, putting aside their grudge for the sake of sisterhood.

And there was her prize. Planted firmly beside her and quite unwilling to do nought but stare adoringly at his darling bride. If the Edith was the sun then Bertie was surely benefitting the most from her light. For he lit up himself whenever he caught site of her, or even when her name crossed his lips. The young couple had not broken apart all evening. They were practically indecent in their closeness.

Rosamund struggled to admit that there was someone capable of loving her Edith the way she did. I just did not seem possible. But judging from the look that appeared on young Bertie Pelham's face when he looked at, it seemed to Rosamund that he may not be far off.


End file.
